The Lakeshore Strangler
by GeeLRay
Summary: What makes the infamous Lakeshore Strangler tick? See his life, love and losses through his perspective, in an attempt to understand the world renowned killer


July 23rd, 1956

All I remember was, it was fucking hot. I was just a little kid, and my Uncle Bill lived here in Chicago, and in the summers I'd travel with my folks to come visit. I was about eight, and I remember not liking to come here because there was absolutely nothing to do other than go down to the pond, find a fish, and stomp it's brains out. Uncle Bill lived in what was called a 'half-decent' part of town, you can say. It was one of those old war time houses that hardly held themselves together, but it was still nicer than ours back in New Jersey.

"You look bored as dust, boy" Uncle Bill said to me while we were all in his den. He was pre-occupied with the paper from three days prior. "Well, there isn't much to do in this room" was all I said back, and what I would always say. Uncle Bill would look over his glasses and smirk "Well, there is nothing keeping you here, Chuck. Go on outside and see if there is something better there." Thank Christ, that was my ticket out the door. I started to get up and Uncle Bill would laugh "My God, I can't believe how big that boy has gotten since last summer." My mother sighed, like she always did and answered coldly "Don't remind me." Ma was a short woman, barely 4 feet tall, and she fucking hated it. I ignored her, like I always did and headed for the door but was interrupted by the all too familiar tug on my shirt. "Charles" I looked down to that bitch's glaring eyes. "Yes m'am?" She would always just stare at me with disgust for a good minute before saying whatever it is she had to say. "Be back here by 4:30 none the later. Got that?" I shook her glare away "Yes m'am". I ran out the door to find my father still trying to fix the same damn car problem we'd been having since we got to Uncle Bill's. Dad got out from under the car and looked up at me, that same crooked smile. "Where you headed to, Chucky?"

I kicked my feet in the dirt. "Nowhere, I guess. Maybe the pond." Dad rolled himself from under the car completely and wiped the sweat that was dripping off his face. "You be back by the time mother told you." I agreed and began my trek to the familiar swamp in which I spent my childhood.  
I don't know what it was, but I kind of felt excited everytime I looked down in the water and saw it filled with swimming fish. Sometimes I remember closing my eyes and imagining them all belly-up and dead at the fault of my feet. I stuck my hand in the water and grabbed a fish by it's fin, and just watched it flap around and gasp between my fingers in pure admiration. I placed it on the ground carefully, as if the ground were a skillet, and watched the fish steam from the hot pavement. Whenever I ended the life of anything, my heart always began to race and this euphoric feeling would take over me. I closed my eyes and stomped my feet, I laughed at the feeling of death underneath my sneakers. The whole process was addicting, and I did it over and over again. I remember hearing a shuffle in the grass, and my eyes widened. What time was it? Is it mother? I grabbed the largest rock I could find, just in case it was. The noise got louder and louder, the footsteps closer and closer, until there she was...but it wasn't mother, it was a little kid.

"What are you doing?" The kid asked. She looked no older than 5 years old, but she looked at me in a way like I was the best fucking thing she's ever seen. "Just don't worry about it, kid. Go back to wherever you came from." I turned around and went back to the pond just waiting for the kid to get off my back. She came up closer to me and shook her head. "I don't wanna go anywhere, I'm happy right where I am. Besides, my house is just over there." She pointed to the smallest house I had ever seen, even smaller than the one back home. "That's no house, that's a shack!" I retorted at her, thinking she may think I was mean and just leave me alone. "Momma always said big things come in small packages." She crouched down and started using her fingers to play in the water. She looked back up at me. "My name is Tiffany. What's yours?" For the first time since she came here, I really looked at Tiffany. She was a pleasant looking kid, I guess. She had really dark curly hair, and the palest skin I'd ever seen. She was a little dirty, but still nice to look at despite the heavy dark ring under her left eye. "Call me Chucky." Was all I could say back, I realized I still had the rock in my hand, and threw it in the pond. We looked at each other for a few minutes. I remember not really knowing what to think. Our stare was disrupted by a shout as loud and heavy as thunder "Tiffany! Get the fuck over here!" Tiffany quickly turned around, "That's Daddy" she said quickly "I gotta go. When do I see you again." I don't know why, but I was kind of disappointed to see her go. "I'm here a lot." I responded while scratching my head. She smiled the prettiest smile I've ever seen on a girl before. "Okay, I'll see you later, Chucky!"

I watched Tiffany run to the dark shadow standing on the porch of her tiny home. I couldn't help but feel like I knew what caused the dark ring under her eye. I looked up to the sun and saw that it looked about 4o'clock. I started my journey back, thinking of Tiffany's smile to try and override the thoughts of the potential hell that waited for me at home


End file.
